[ despite being privy to her own desire to cross over, finnick hadn't been able to confirm she had been successful in her endeavour until meeting her real. after a few attempts at charming the pants off of her, he'd called it a day, excusing himself to spend his time walking slowly within the mansion with a stride that suggested he owned the place. the encounter had left him feeling underwhelmed, somewhat disappointed by her own real, as he took to wondering how his was — the thought to join her lingered, but as the reals were swapping with their mirror counterparts, he thought it best his feet remain locked within the sand on this particular side of the looking glass. but he takes to her room to write on her mirror, wondering, for the first time he's written on it, if she'll see a message on the other side. ]
[ or perhaps the apple tree, but he finds her real is far from the ripe apple he's used to. ]
( ɹoɹɹᴉɯ | late evening of the 18th )
[ or perhaps the apple tree, but he finds her real is far from the ripe apple he's used to. ]